REVIEW: letlive. – “Fake History”

letlive / Fake History / Epitaph

letlive. isn’t just a name; consider it more of a philosophy, an oath the Los Angeles five-piece bide by in which they allow a good thing to flourish and become something great. The name sounds new, but the music – i.e. post-hardcore rummage tinted with ear-splitting vocals and sheer primal rage – has the group sounding like they’re not, almost like an act Epitaph has been keeping in the closet and quietly feeding for years. Instead of presenting itself as solely a collection of 14 individual tracks, Fake History is best enjoyed from start to finish relinquishing in the seamless transition of one track to the next. Jason Butler’s all-encompassing vocal range (“Homeless Jazz”, “H. Ledger”) flecked with the occasional stand-alone bass line and infectious breakdown (“Enemies (Enemigos)”) makes each letlive. track seem more like a mini-symphony as opposed to just your average hardcore outburst.

Somehow, Butler and co. pack so much into each song that halfway through, you begin to wonder if its even the same one anymore until it comes back full-circle and slides into the next track before you can even comprehend the musical ass-kicking that’s just been received. “Casino Columbus”, catches the energy and zeal of the group, but keeps Jason Butler’s raw talent for melodic vocals a secret. “Muther”, one of the most harmonious tracks on the album, leaves Butler making a confession: “And all because of you now I can’t stand it / In all that I do, I see the scarlet branding”. Songs like this one, and reissue newcomer “Lemon Party”, prove even when deviating from their feverous norm and comfort zone, letlive. exceed expectations. The reason being the brotherhood they share that illuminates every note on Fake History, provides a teasing glimpse into the bond lying behind the music, giving it the passion and sincerity that resonates from every modulation and tone. Brief as said glimpse may be, the debut proves it takes more than a clever slew of chords and vocal somersaults to create something transcendental in an indefinable genre.